


Sleight of Hand; Trick of Mind

by DefyTheUnknown



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Depictions of Violence Aren't Really that Graphic, Gen, Hurt Merlin, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Not Really Character Death, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefyTheUnknown/pseuds/DefyTheUnknown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood on hand. Red on mind. Without Him, desolation is upon us.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleight of Hand; Trick of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: War, brief description of the aftermath thereof, and a horrific overuse of sentence fragments.

Blood on hand. Red on mind. I understand it now, what the Old Ones were trying to warn me of. Destruction. Annihilation. Obliteration. Control lost and wisdom hidden. Ironic this, that I, the one who is always telling Him to slow down and think man before you throw the gauntlet, would lose control in so spectacular a fashion. It was as though something else had done it. Something buried deep inside and not meant to see the light of day. It is still there, Red and furious, rushing through veins with the force of my pain. Pain. Pain like the weight of a sea. Crashing. Disrupting. Splintering. Uncaring of the consequences of its might.

They are coming now. No use trying to hide. They saw. They stood and watched as I lay waste to the army before them. What else could they do? We all saw Him fall, saw the sword that struck and heard the cry of pain. They tried, fought valiantly in a foolish struggle to save Him. It was not their fault. It must be mine. 

If the Red had come sooner, perhaps I could have saved Him. Perhaps I could have acted instead of standing frozen. Frozen in horror at a prophecy coming to fulfillment.  
They are here now. A ring of red cloaks and soiled swords. They fear me. I should get up, tell them that there is nothing to fear. But that is not true. Without Him there is everything to fear. We should fear the night, for in it the monsters will reign. We should fear the morning, for with it will come our enemies. We should fear the day, for it shall be without hope. We should fear the evening, for the despair of night and dread of day will not dissuaded by the harmony of friendship. They should be afraid.

However, it is not I they should be afraid of. I look up to tell them so and my glaze passes over the battlefield. That is, what is left of it. The Red of mind has been reflected upon the earth. Lava still seeps through the cracks in the ground and craters, made by the touch of lightning, are slowly filling with the blood of the fallen. None are standing. All have fallen.

"Why have you not gone to see to his body?" Interesting, I had not meant to ask questions. It is not my place. Especially now, now that I have failed. No matter. They could not have heard. I knew the words were little more than puffs of air escaping parted lips.

Then He is kneeling beside me. That cannot be right. He is gone. Replaced by the Red.

"Quiet Merlin; don't try to talk. Everything is alright."

He is speaking. But that can't be right. He is gone. Replaced by Red.

The Red is seeping back to the fore of my mind. An imposter dares to speak with His voice, in His body. Magic is flooding through my veins, strengthening, numbing, fortifying as it races through my body. I am sitting up without intending to do so. The Red is back. The imposter must die. Red letters paint the thought across my mind. Red letters demand that his blood stain the ground. The ground will hold his blood with His, and my soul will cry anew. 

He reaches out and touches my shoulder as I rise. White. White radiating out from the contact. The Red retreats from the force of White. He is here. 

Blue eyes meet gold and the world crashes into place. Voices. Voices raised in anger and soft in understanding. Feet. Panicked, running feet held back by a motionless circle surrounding us. Blood. The smell of it. The sight of it. I had known it was there but… oh gods. Then Black. Black circling my mind and restricting my sight. I slip away to the sound of His voice. It is His voice. So all will eventually be well.


End file.
